Page 120 of Faking the Goal

I don't realize I'm crying until his thumb brushes beneath my eye.

He's crouched beside the bed now, and before I can react, his hand closes gently around mine.

"I know," he says, his voice rough. "And I'm so fucking sorry."

I look at him.

I've seen Kentaro angry. Annoyed. Arrogant. Amused, occasionally, when I manage to drag it out of him.

I've never seen him like this.

There's nothing guarded in his eyes right now. No scowl to hide behind. Just remorse so naked and sincere that I have to look away because some stupid part of me wants to make this easier for him.

And I'm not ready to do that.

"I appreciate you apologizing," I whisper. "I do."

His fingers tighten slightly around mine.

"But hearing you say you're sorry doesn't make what you said hurt any less." I wipe beneath my other eye. "And I don't know if I can forgive you yet."

His face falls, but he nods.

"I understand."

CHAPTER 18

TAYLOR

The cursor blinks impatiently at the bottom of my document. The television drones in the background, some action movie I've already seen twice before serving as nothing more than white noise while my fingers continue dancing across the keyboard. I couldn't tell you what the plot is anymore. Judging by the explosions every few minutes, I'm assuming somebody important is trying very hard not to die. Good for them.

I lean back against the couch cushions and rub at my tired eyes before reaching for my coffee mug, only to discover it's empty. Again.

My gaze drifts across the coffee table.

One empty mug.

Two.

Three.

Four.

"...Jesus."

Four cups of coffee in just under three hours. I've probably broken my record.

I set the mug down with a quiet clink before returning my attention to the laptop. The feature is almost done. The photos are organized and color-corrected, and all that's left is polishing the article itself. If I can power through another hour or so, I can finally send the damn thing off and be done with it.

After that, school can officially leave me the fuck alone until winter break is over.

Which means the only thing I plan on thinking about for the next couple of weeks is work.

Work. Money. More work. More money.

Because really... what else am I supposed to be doing over the holidays? It's not like I've got somewhere to be.

No family dinner waiting for me. No relatives blowing up my phone asking what time I'm coming over. No Christmas traditions to keep alive.